


I can't stand to be sober in this place

by icegaze



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Character Study, Gen, Post Episode 10 Reveal, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:43:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8972473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icegaze/pseuds/icegaze
Summary: Yuuri struggles to accept his performance the morning after the Grand Prix Finals in Sochi, Russia.





	

Ow. How much  _ had _ he had to drink last night? 

On second thought, that was a question Yuuri didn’t actually want the answer to. What he knew for sure was that the midday sun filtering in through the window hurt, and his mouth felt like he’d been eating sand. Yuuri sat up, winced, and groped for a bottle of water from his nightstand, knocking over an empty with a clatter. He twisted off the cap and chugged it eagerly, ignoring the trickle that ran down his chin and dripped onto his shirt.

Then reality swooped down on him like a hawk on a mouse - his performance at the Grand Prix Finals yesterday, and… Well, who cares  _ what _ else happened after that? He was a failure, a loser; of  _ course _ he drank himself into a stupor. He couldn’t stand to even be around himself after that. He wouldn’t be surprised if Celestino dropped him as a pupil after he’d screwed up so badly.

“Loser...” He muttered aloud, his hands clenching into fists; one balled up in the blanket, the other crumpling the half-drained water bottle. “I should just go home, I just…” He wasn’t even in the same league as the other skaters, he saw that yesterday. They were real pros - not like him. He was just a dedicated hobby skater that got too far on stupid dreams.

Yuuri jumped as his phone chimed. It took him some time to find it, his phone insistently chirping while he pawed through the sheets, under the bed, in the desk’s single drawer twice, the bathroom, and then finally thought to pat down his suit jacket, draped over a chair that’d been dragged near the bed.

Oh, that’s right... They had an evening flight out of Sochi and Yuuri had set an alarm to give himself plenty of time to pack up his things and check out. Celestino was probably eager to get back to the US. Where he could resume teaching Phichit. The student who  _ didn’t _ suck and fail and deserved Celestino’s attention.

Yuuri licked his cracked lips and dismissed the alarm. He scrolled through his text messages; ‘ _ r u ok? _ ’ and ‘ _ pls call me in morn _ ’ from Celestino. From Phichit: ‘ _ heard the news. Sorry. :'( lets go out for noodles when u get home? _ ’ - Yuuri sighed, he knew Phichit would’ve got up extra early to watch the live feed. He’d respond later; he didn’t feel much like seeing Phichit right now, but he knew he’d probably want the pick-me-up after the long flight back to Detroit. Finally, ‘ _ see u next year? ;) _ ’ from an unknown number. Yuuri deleted that message, and tapped Celestino’s contact, biting his lip as he brought his phone to his ear.

A scrap of folded paper that’d been stuck to his phone case peeled free and drifted to the floor, landing near Yuuri’s foot. Curious, Yuuri scooped it up as Celestino answered.

“Yuuri!” He sounded as cheery as ever.  _ You don’t have to pretend to be happy to hear from me, _ Yuuri thought.  _ Though the gesture is nice, I guess. _ “He lives! You packed up yet?”

“Um, almost.” Yuuri hadn’t even brushed his teeth yet, but he was a fairly neat person and hadn’t unpacked much in the first place. He just had to change, gather up his suit and skates and he’d be ready to go. He tilted his head to trap his phone between cheek and shoulder, unfolding the scrap of paper.

“Okay! I’d like to get to the airport earlier if we can. You know what security is like for international flights.” Celestino laughed. “I’ll see you in the lobby in, mm, an hour, alright?”

“Yeah. One hour. See you then.” Yuuri hung up and squinted at the paper, as his glasses were still on the nightstand. He held it closer, focusing on the handwriting. It was a phone number - he had no idea from where - and a word. A name, probably; but it might as well have been cuneiform. Yuuri had never got the hang of reading cursive writing, even while living in America. The little heart scrawled in at the end of the name was a little concerning.

It’d probably wound up in the wrong pocket. Or someone put it there as a joke. Yuuri felt his face heat up; someone had done this to him once before, in grade school. Back when he still thought he liked girls, and told a friend - well, someone he thought was a friend - that he’d a crush on Yuko, then he’d conveniently been slipped a love confession written by her. Except it wasn’t written by her at all.

Guess that was still something hilarious to do to Yuuri Katsuki, even now that he was 23. Probably that scary Russian kid that had it out for him. This seemed like the kind of childish thing he’d think was hilarious. Gritting his teeth, Yuuri crumpled up the paper and threw it in the wastebasket and stood up to gather up his things. 

Frankly, he was eager to put Sochi far, far behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> just a short character study of Yuuri and his anxiety having a sulk.  
> next i think i'd like to tackle Viktor's point of view during the sochi banquet!


End file.
